In Which the Argument Goes Too Far
by YesIEatQuiche
Summary: Howl and Sophie. A stubborn and headstrong couple, who spend most of their time flirting through arguments. It was only a matter of time before someone took it too far. What are the consequences when Howl blunders across that thinly drawn line? Three chapters, bookverse, mostly.
1. In Which Howl Really Blunders

_In Which the Argument Goes Too Far_

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**A/N: **Hello all! Welcome to my little experimental fanfiction. It's an experiment because of all the _what if's _that lead to this, and also because I wanted to write something a bit more serious and see how that turned out. This will be a little 3 chaptered story (I can't bear to see these two angry for too long). I hope you stick along for the ride. ^^

**Disclaimer: **Howl and Sophie are still not my puppets. Diana Wynne Jones still holds that distinction.

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_Chapter 1_

In Which Howl Really Blunders

Howl took a running leap and flew down the castle stairs, a flurry of flapping shirt and tousled raven hair. Sophie tumbled after him, laughing wholeheartedly.

"It's so nice to have the old castle all to ourselves, for once!" Howl exclaimed, in a surprisingly cheery early-morning state of mind.

"I know," Sophie laughed, and then added, "just don't talk like that around Calcifer."

"Oh no, none of that moralizing today, Mrs. Nose, I am determined to live up to everyone's expectations of the infamous Horrible Howl," Howl grinned. "As my first act of being horrible, I think I know just what I'll do," he muttered slyly, taking a step closer to Sophie.

Sophie took a step back, trying in vain not to blush to the ends of her red-gold hair.

"What will it be today, Horrible Howl?" she bantered, matching Howl's tone. "A collection of damsels' souls? Or maybe you'll just steal their hearts?"

"Just one heart today, I should think." Howl edged closer.

"Oh? Do go on," Sophie said, bravely standing her ground.

Howl took a long stride, shortening the distance between their bodies to an infinitesimal amount of air.

"Well, it's not something I can really explain with _words_," Howl said, leaning in.

Sophie stared at him with wide eyes, as Howl leaned closer, closer and – kissed the top of her head.

Well.

Howl leaned back so he could see Sophie's slightly disappointed face, and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"What was that?" Sophie demanded, a little miffed.

"Hmm? Expecting something else my dear?" Howl teased. "Well, did it work?"

"Oh yes Howl, you are the most horrible wizard in all of Ingary for having stolen a heart that was already yours!" Sophie teased back.

"That's all I ask, my dear." Howl smiled a rare, true smile.

Then he kissed her for real.

When they at last pulled apart, Sophie rested her head on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Just for that little joke before, Horrible Howl, I sentence you to flower picking duty. I'll ready the shop." She gave him a little peck on the check, and turned to go.

"Oh, I'll pick those flowers all right. I'll be so horrible that I'll bring them in when you least expect me!" Howl marched towards the portal, turned the knob to reveal Sophie's magnificent field of flowers, and crossed the threshold.

Sophie, still chuckling, headed over to the adjoining shop. She opened curtains, dusted shelves, and swept the floor. She arranged vases and talked the remaining withered flowers to life again. When she was out adjusting the sign, she noticed that they had mail, despite the early hour. So she took the letter, returned to her behind-the-counter stool and stared at the envelope, brimming with curiosity.

The stamp was definitely foreign, Sophie thought, turning the envelope about. Upon seeing it was addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Howell Jenkins", Sophie figured it was alright to open it. The fact that it was addressed to Howell Jenkins, and not Howl Pendragon only heightened her curiosity, though it should have heightened her sense of foreboding.

For the letter was from none other than Megan, Howl's sister from Wales. As Sophie pulled out the fancy invitation and realized who it was from, the sense of dread finally hit her. This would surely ruin Howl's good mood.

It was a wedding anniversary invitation printed on a single page of expensive looking paper. A long rose wound up the left side of the invitation, looking both beautiful and terrible at the same time (though surely the later was not intended, Sophie mused).

_You are cordially invited to the _

_20__th__ anniversary of _

_Gareth and Megan Parry (née Jenkins)._

_Help us celebrate the years _

_With good music, good food, _

_And, of course, good friends. _

Sophie smiled it spite of herself, rather touched, and wondered if she would make such an event out of her 20th anniversary when the time came. Perhaps something a little less fancy, she decided. Then again, what a clear reminder that Megan _was _Howl's sister – those flamboyant Jenkinses.

Sophie read on, skipping through the general information (hopefully Howl would know where to find the Wales Country Club, whatever that was) and pondering over what was meant by "cocktail attire". Something interesting greeted her at the end – a short, handwritten scrawl.

_Hello Howell. _

_-Megan_

What could this mean? Sophie wondered. She could only assume that Megan wished to make up, but felt awkward about it. Megan was overbearing and even cruel to Howl at times, but Sophie knew that beneath it all she really did care about her younger brother. She hoped the two could finally get over their imagined differences; maybe this party would do just the trick.

Still, there was that little matter of telling Howl.

As if on cue, Howl barged into the shop, pushing the door open with his foot, as his arms were full of flowers. _Horrible _timing indeed, Howl – Sophie bit back a laugh.

"Careful Howl, don't crush my flowers!" Sophie instructed Howl where to place them.

"You're just jealous they like me just as much as they like you!" Howl insisted.

Instead of deigning to reply, Sophie turned her attention to a wilted flower in Howl's hand. It was one of her experiments, and had gold trimmed petals with a shockingly blue center.

"Perk up, you," Sophie addressed the flower. "You must look your best today so someone important will fall in love with you!"

And the flower did just that, shining magnificently. Sophie took the beautiful flower from the stunned Howl and put it in her favorite vase on the counter so she could admire it.

"Show off," Howl accused, sounding impressed.

Sophie allowed herself a small smile at having impressed Howl, before returning her attention to the letter.

"Howl, we got something in the mail," Sophie began slowly.

"What, at this hour?" Howl laughed, not noticing Sophie's tone.

"Well, yes. It's something from…from, well, Megan." Sophie regarded his reaction; sure enough his smile was gone, his demeanor stiffer, his eyes nearly as glassy and unfeeling as they were when she had first met him.

"Ah," was the only response.

"It's actually quite sweet, I think," she said, trying to be cheery, and offered the opened letter to Howl.

He stared at the letter longer than necessary. Sophie eyed him nervously, holding her breath.

"Well," Howl began, "that's that."

The letter promptly burst into flames in his hand.

"Howl!" Sophie exclaimed, aghast.

Howl lazily flicked the ashes from the palm of his hand, ignoring her.

"_Howell!_"

Howl flinched imperceptibly at the use of his real name. He made eye contact with her; to Sophie it seemed like the fire that had consumed the letter now raged in his piercing green eyes.

"What Sophie? You didn't see through her _sweet_ ploy?" he scoffed. "It's just an excuse to criticize my lack of accomplishments by putting me side by side her dignified, more _successful_ friends. And frankly, I've had enough of that."

"Now, Howl – that's not her intention –"

"You don't know Megan!"

"I know she wants to celebrate the 20th anniversary of her marriage with those she cares about the most, and – what's this? – it seems like you've merited an invitation!" Sophie yelled, her annoyance rising. How could Howl not appreciate his sister? Sophie's thoughts lingered on Martha and Lettie.

"You don't know _anything_!" Howl shrieked, interrupting her sisterly thoughts.

"Howl, you and I both know you should go," Sophie reasoned, backtracking with a conciliatory tone, and calling for patience from all those years of dealing with Martha and Lettie's tantrums.

Silence.

"Come on Howl, _someone _needs to go! Megan will be so disappointed…" Sophie trailed off, seeing Howl's strangely hopeful expression.

She realized her mistake too late.

"That's it Sophie! You can go!" Howl was elated.

"Don't be ridiculous! By some_one_, I of course meant _you_."

"But you said – you mean, you won't go?" Howl seemed crushed.

"Only if you do," Sophie promised. "You should be there too."

Howl exploded again.

"You don't understand ANYthing – I'm never going back just to visit HER. I can't! You owe me a favor – go for me!"

"Howl, I don't owe you ANY favors," Sophie countered, her anger rising with Howl's.

"Bah, you won't even go to Wales for me?" Howl waved his arms furiously.

"Of course not! Take some responsibility for once!" Sophie yelled, chest heaving.

"How unadventurous," Howl scoffed cruelly, and then continued, "_as expected from the eldest of three."_

A pregnant silence followed.

Howl waited for Sophie's line. Surely she'd come back with a fiery response along the lines of "as expected from a slither-outer". Howl waited, but it never came.

Finally, Sophie began to speak.

"How _dare_ you?" Sophie choked out, her form shrinking.

Howl watched, utterly horrified, as Sophie's skin aged 70 years. She hunched over, her back no longer able to keep her up straight. Her glorious ginger hair shriveled and greyed. Sophie became her ninety year old self once again, but this time there was no Witch of the Waste to blame, Howl despaired.

"Goodbye _Horrible _Howl," she said, her voice cracking with age.

Sophie shuffled out the shop, slamming the door behind her with such force that the customer bell jingled on for minutes after she left.

Howl just stood there, quivering, waiting for his pounding heart to implode.

_What had he done?_

Megan did ruin everything, Howl thought darkly.

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**A/N: **Thoughts, please? (Was the argument dialogue authentic, do you think? Arguments are hard to write, I think, because people are usually irrational during arguments and on top of that Howl's so dramatic and Megan is really taboo… so, yeah, it's hard to tell if it's authentic enough after I've read it 10+ times)

Reviewers get their hearts stolen by Horrible Howl xD Also reviews encourage me to post the other chapters, which I have already written (mwahaha shameful trickery ;P)


	2. Which is After the Storm

_In Which the Argument Goes Too Far_

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**A/N: **Here's more – hope you enjoy the drama that is Howl and Sophie :3 Sorry for the slight delay; I had to edit this more than I originally thought.

**Disclaimer: **The film dialogue you recognize is not mine. The characters aren't either.

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_Chapter 2_

Which is After the Storm

_As expected from the eldest of three. _

The phrase haunted Sophie as she made her made her way through bustling streets, her final destination the Wastes that loomed in the distance. The whole situation gave her a queer feeling of déjà vu, except of course, this time everything was Howl's fault.

How _dare_ he? Howl had never, ever, even mentioned her insecurity before, let alone used it against her. _Well, there's a first time for everything, old girl_, Sophie thought bitterly, hot tears stinging her face.

She didn't even care to know why or how her curse had returned. All that mattered was Howl was a blasted fool, that the heartless man had hurt her and hadn't even bothered to run after her, and that she was leaving to seek her fortune – for real this time around, she told herself resolutely.

Sophie took a few deep, steadying breaths. You can get through this, she lied bravely to herself.

After all, it was time she resigned herself to the mediocrity she had always known came with being the eldest of three. No point hiding it from herself anymore. She had always suspected Howl was too extraordinary for her, anyway; everything about Howl screamed mistake.

* * *

Five hours later, Howl was still standing in the castle, doing an impressive rendition of a deer caught in the headlights. At first glance, it appeared as if he hadn't moved at all.

Oh, but he had.

Upon closer look, it was clear that the floor of the castle's main chamber was coated in a thick, putrid green slime.

That had been his 7th attempt to get Sophie to come back. He remembered fondly the very first time he slimed in her presence; she had started the hot water for him, carried him upstairs, tucked him into bed, shoved warm milk in his hands, and kindly forced him to talk about his troubles.

Not this time, though.

Seeing that the 3 inch coating of slime on the ground was ruining his designer shoes and seeping into his silky pant legs, Howl had then decided to take a hot bath, counting that as his 8th attempt to get Sophie back. After all, Howl reasoned, she constantly worried that he would one day drown himself in his magical bath products. He had regarded the bathroom door in anticipation, waiting for her to barge in, furious, and tell him off.

She never came.

After reflecting deeply in the bathtub, Howl had felt a wave of remorse wash over him. Of _course _Sophie was more important than his designer shoes. He felt so bad about this that he got out of the bath straight away, donned his ruined shoes, and slimed the castle again.

That was his 9th attempt.

By his 33rd attempt, Howl was waist deep in slime, his face and neck sticky – a result of his slimed hands wiping that hot wet stuff streaming from his eyes.

Exhausted from all the charades, Howl finally broke down and forced himself to face the one question that had been haunting him.

_What have I done? _

Sophie had been gone since the morning, and it was already mid-afternoon. Howl was getting frantic. What was he supposed to do?

His scholar spirit kicking in, Howl settled on finding out as much information about the Witch of the Wastes' curses as possible. He had to make sense of what had happened. Understanding would make things infinitely better.

So Howl banished the slime away, dashed over to his work bench, and rummaged through his spellbooks and notes, looking for something – anything – that might be of use to him. He searched for hours to no avail, but reveled in the sense that he was actually _doing _something. However, Howl's stubbornness could only last for so long. When reality came crashing down on him, Howl laid his head down on his desk, and closed his tired eyes, giving into despair.

Perhaps it was because the frantic reading had addled his brain. Perhaps it was because he couldn't get the image of Sophie growing old before his eyes out of his head. Whatever the reason, Howl found himself swept away in the torrent of his memories.

_He walked through the threshold of the castle, only to be met with a hunchbacked, 90 year old woman groaning about aches and pains and the filth of the castle…The scene shifted, dissolved. He was standing in the same room, but darkness surrounded him. He had just returned. Walking gingerly over to Sophie's room under the stairs, he pulled back the curtains, and was met with the face of a sleeping angel – even the curse, it appeared, had to sleep…Again, a new scene, a new day. Sophie was putting on her ratty old hat in spite of Howl's protests about having made her dress look pretty. She was old, but she stood up straight, no longer hunched over…The scene changed abruptly, almost violently. Howl was showing Sophie the field of flowers. She ran off ahead, laughing. When she turned around, tossing flowers in the air, Howl was once again greeted by the face of the angel – only her hair betrayed her cursed age. _

_ "With all these flowers you've got in this valley, you could easily open up a flower shop," he found himself saying. "Right?! I'm sure you'd be good at it."_

_ "So you are going away…Please Howl, I know I can be of help to you. Even though I'm not pretty, and I'm good at is cleaning."_

_ "Sophie – Sophie you're beautiful!"_

_ The angel shrunk and withered. _

_ "Well the nice thing about being old is you've got nothing much to lose."_

Howl jolted up, as if awaking from a stupor. He groaned at his stupidity. He had miscalculated; he had always misunderstood the nature of Sophie's curse. It had _layers_. He had only understood it at its most basic level – that the Witch of the Waste cursed Sophie with old age. Now he saw what the Witch had done; she had played on Sophie's insecurities, arranging it so that the curse would only fade when she felt comfortable with herself. The curse hadn't broken because the Witch had been vanquished; no, it had broken when Howl could finally give his heart to someone other than Calcifer. It was Howl's love that had saved Sophie.

Well – now Howl felt like a complete ass.

Horror at his actions seeped through his very being. Clearly, he couldn't yet be trusted to his own devices when it came to matters of the heart. He had to find someone wise to confide in; someone who could counsel him into not being an idiot. After all, he had to fix this mess, somehow.

Still devastated, Howl ran through his short list of friends. Suliman? No, it was too risky with Lettie there – she would surely murder him for having mistreated her sister. For the same reason, he ruled out Michael and Martha. _Megan?_ Howl thought half-heartedly, simultaneously scoffing and cringing at his poor attempt at a joke. That left only one option, really. He was loathe to suggest it, because deep down Howl knew this person rivaled even Lettie and Martha in loyalty to Sophie. After all, he had taken care of Howl's heart, and had been privy to its Sophie-centric emotions. Howl glanced forlornly at the cold, empty hearth.

He would have to find Calcifer.

* * *

Calcifer stared up at the inky sky, searching for stars. His brothers and sisters had fallen long ago, but their descendants glistened on.

It was how Calcifer always spent his days off, gazing at the stars. It pained him that they were so far away. _That_ was true freedom – floating up there in the cosmos. Calcifer sighed; it seemed cruel that the universe continued to float on without him.

Calcifer himself was hovering over a mountain peak; it was the closest he could get to the stars. He had been there for a while, crackling all by his lonesome as the twilight descended upon the mountainside.

Suddenly, the balmy breeze transformed into a violent torrent, causing his flames to swell and dance in odd directions. He then heard someone landing on the ground behind him. _It must be Howl_, Calcifer registered, disinterested. _No one else knows where to find me. _

It was silent except for the crackling of Calcifer's blue-green flames. He was thinking of how he should probably find some logs soon, when his thoughts were interrupted by a startling noise.

Howl was sobbing.

Blast – Calcifer hated tears the most. Water made him nervous.

"What's the matter with you?" Calcifer demanded, spinning around to confront the crybaby.

"S-sophie left – my fault –" he choked out.

Calcifer felt a twinge of panic. "What did you do?" He flamed threateningly.

"Told her something horrible – morphed into old woman again – ran out."

Calcifer was alarmed. "What the hell did you do, Howl?!"

Calcifer's chastising seemed to have a calming effect on Howl.

"We were arguing," Howl began, glancing at Calcifer. Calcifer nodded, nothing unusual there. "About Megan." Calcifer sparked with interest. Even he knew Megan was taboo. "It wasn't good. I-I told her – _as expected from the eldest of three_."

Blue spirals of flame shot into the air. "Howl, you fool – you brought her curse back!" Calcifer raged.

"I know, but – " Howl paused, something sinking in. Now it was his turn to be angry. "You knew the curse's true nature – the different layers?"

"Oh course!" Calcifer huffed, insulted.

"And you didn't tell me?!" Howl flapped his arms dramatically.

"You never asked. You're a _wizard_ for god's sake, you should know a curse when you see one!"

Howl remained silent, properly abashed.

"Well?" Calcifer's crackling voice seemed unusually rough against the backdrop of the peaceful night.

"Well what?" Howl asked calmly; he appeared more composed now – no more tears of anguish or anger on his end.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure…" Howl evaded.

"Howl," Calcifer said, growing serious. "If you don't fix this, you don't deserve Sophie."

"I know."

"Then go find her, you sorry excuse for a wizard!"

Howl grinned. "I think I know where she'll be." With that, he flew off, his shouts of thanks getting lost in the wind.

Humans are so obtuse, Calcifer complained to the stars.

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**A/N:** Well?

I love all you readers and reviewers! So drop me a line, and tell me what you think ^^


	3. In Which There is a Duel

_In Which the Argument Goes Too Far_

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**A/N: **This is my first story that isn't a oneshot that I've actually finished (okay it's three chapters, but still)—huzzah! Let the celebration commence!

That being said, I live for feedback. Not entirely true, but it's rather scary how true this half-truth is. :P

**Disclaimer: **Still not my characters!

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_Chapter 3_

In Which There is a Duel

She was exactly where Howl thought she'd be.

Sophie sat on the edge of Star Lake in a wooden chair as old as she was. Her scowl was the only indication that she was aware of Howl's approach.

Once he was next to her, she spoke.

"When you're old, all you want to do is stare at the scenery," Sophie said bitterly.

"Duel me," was Howl's response.

"What?" Sophie squawked, sufficiently startled to swirl around in her seat and look at Howl.

"You heard me."

"What are you trying to do, Howl?"

"You'll see."

Howl's typical lack of elaboration only served to annoy Sophie more. "I've had enough of your games," she decided, turning back around.

"Still, wouldn't it be satisfying to beat some sense into me?" Howl badgered.

A few moments passed.

"Fine. Have it your way."

Sophie stood up painfully and eyed Howl; she did not know how these wizard duels were supposed to work, but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"Alright then," Howl began cheerfully, making Sophie's scowl deepen, "this space will do. Now we start 5 feet apart, like so." (Howl came to her since it was difficult for Sophie to move quickly.) "We bow," Howl gestured flamboyantly. Sophie merely stood stiffly, but Howl let it pass. "We turn our backs and walk in the opposite direction." Once Howl was roughly 30 feet away from Sophie, he stopped and turned around. "This'll do! Now we start when I lower my arm," Howl explained, simultaneously raising his arm so it was at a diagonal to his body. "Ready – "

"Wait!" Sophie yelled, alarmed. "How do we know when it's over?"

"You'll know," Howl said flippantly, annoying Sophie further. She was starting to regret her hasty decision to go along with Howl's silly idea. She knew she had no hope of beating him; Sophie wished he would leave her in peace so that she could better acclimate to her old age. She toyed with the tantalizing idea of giving up. The sooner this was over, the better.

Sometime during this dejected string of thoughts, Howl had lowered his arm. Immediately two doppelgangers split off from the real Howl. When Sophie finally came to her senses, she was fairly startled to see three Howl's running at her.

She took a few hobbled steps back from the fearsome sight – before reminding herself that this was unnecessary. _Right_, Sophie told herself, _all I have to do is stand here until it's over._

"Ha!" doppelganger number one – or was it the real Howl? – shouted, moving to her flank.

"Is that the best you can do, old woman?" another of Howl's minions yelled.

Sophie huffed dramatically. The situation was impossible – she wanted to beat Howl to a pulp, but how could she do anything to stop Howl when his very _profession_ was magic?

As the Howl's closed in on her from all sides, something clicked. _She _may not be able to do anything to stop them, with these old bones, but what if she –

"Do _something _about them, will you?" Sophie yelled at the ground.

In response, the ground began to move violently – as if there were immense bubbles of air beneath the surface, pushing the grass up in forms akin to crashing waves. None of the Howl's managed to keep their footing. The doppelgangers tripped comically, arms flailing, and crashed into each other; as soon as they came into contact, they poofed into nonexistence. The real Howl, however, merely toppled over, skidding across the ground, simultaneously earning him grass stains and a mouthful of sod. He stayed on the ground on all fours, coughing up the grass along with a few choice words.

Sophie chuckled, feeling a little lighter. Perhaps this wasn't so difficult after all.

While Howl remained occupied with the grass, she shuffled over to the lake. She bent over the water, cupped her hand against her mouth, and whispered, "Go after that horrible man, will you? I hear he just loves baths." Sophie then edged to the side to watch the fun.

Enormous spirals of water jetted out from the lake, seeking out the man who loved baths so much. The man himself had finally stood up and was totally absorbed muttering no-stain incantations, praying that the grass stains would come out of his expensive clothes.

Howl never saw it coming. He yelped and almost fell over when the first jet of cold water hit him.

"Sophie," he spluttered, spitting out water, "how are you doing that?"

Sophie chuckled harder, doing what would have been an impressive rendition of a crazed old witch – except that she was no longer so hunched over. No, Sophie was standing up straighter and exuding something, that if pressed to name, she would have called _confidence_.

But Howl had already recovered from his initial shock, and was murmuring strange, complex phrases. The wind began pick up, forcing Sophie's somewhat gray hair into her face. The gale increased to such magnitude that Sophie was swept off the ground and carried over to Howl, who was still being doused with water. When she reached Howl, the wind disappeared as he grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her in place. Before long Sophie was soaked down to her undergarments, utterly cold, and frustrated that she once again hadn't thought things through. Hastily, she called the water off. She struggled, but Howl kept her rooted in place.

"That's amazing, Sophie," Howl said, sounding genuinely impressed. "I don't even know how this works – you aren't even using any spells! It's as if…" Howl paused, thinking. "It's almost as if you _make _the spells." He looked down into her wide eyes. "You're amazing, Sophie."

Sophie began to smile, but then remembered she was dueling Howl. He was probably attempting to distract her into forgetting about the whole matter. Which would be a shame because Sophie now knew that she could win, if she put her mind to it.

With the agility of someone much younger than ninety, she broke away from Howl's now lax grasp and ran towards the old chair by the water.

"Wait– " Howl called out, somewhat helplessly.

But she had already reached the chair, which sprang valiantly into action, bounded over the field, and wrapped itself around Howl, who struggled in vain to move.

Sophie meandered back over towards Howl, laughing at the sight of his shocked face. After a few moments, Howl joined in the laughter. Sophie smiled wider. It really was just a game.

"You've lost, Howl," Sophie said, trying to be stern, and failing. "Give it up!"

"Never!" Howl said playfully.

And with that he disappeared.

Startled, Sophie whipped around, searching for Howl.

He found her first, though – his arms enveloped her in a bear-hug from behind. She was the trapped one now.

"How did you do that?" Sophie demanded.

"Now Sophie, I can't give away all my secrets during the first lesson! That would be unprofessional."

"You mean – you'll give me magic lessons?" Sophie asked wonderingly, attempting to turn around and study Howl's face without success. Giving up, she found resting her head on his chest and gazing up at his visage a suitable substitute.

"Well," Howl dodged, grinning down on her, "now that Michael's gone, I suppose I need to occupy my time somehow."

Sophie grinned. That was Howl-speak for _yes_.

Howl began playing with a flank of her hair.

"Your hair's different," he said lightly.

Sophie looked down at the strand in question to see that it had resumed its usual redish-gold hue. She wondered vaguely if this had anything to do with the new feeling of confidence that was still coursing through her.

"I'm glad it's ginger again," Howl continued, smiling.

"It's red-gold!" she snapped.

"Whatever!" Howl conceded, chuckling and spinning her around so she was facing him.

"Sophie?" he began tentatively. It was important he didn't forget.

"Hmm?"

"I truly am sorry."

His eyes bored into hers, as he held his breath, waiting.

"I know Howl, I know."

They embraced.

"And I've been thinking about it, you know!" Howl said excitedly, pulling back, but keeping his arms draped over her shoulders. "Maybe it's not such a bad idea if we went to Megan's party. I'd like to see Mari. But we should disguise ourselves, of course. Perhaps we could be servers at the banquet? We'd have to wear all black naturally – I have a few things that would do. Or maybe I could be the bartender, while you dress up as –"

Howl droned on while Sophie just rolled her eyes. She would persuade him eventually. After all, they _had _survived this long.

* * *

**A/N:** LA FIN. Did you enjoy the ride?

Limited time only! Act fast! Readers who review win my undying love and also a duel/sappy fluffy make up session with none other than Howell Jenkins himself!

(Also, is it just me, or did the commas have a mind of their own in this chapter? Hah, good thing I know grammar... ^^; )


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